


Sunflower’s Intention

by Itachi_S_Lucius



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Character Is Reborn, Dominant/Submissive dynamics, Evil Madara, Good Madara, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Instability, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Schizophrenia, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, character evolution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:21:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27001138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itachi_S_Lucius/pseuds/Itachi_S_Lucius
Summary: To be reborn is a gift, as was the soulmark he bore, yet Madara found he valued neither.However, perhaps that may change even if the basic principles of the shinobi world have not.
Relationships: Uchiha Madara/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 3
Kudos: 62





	1. A Mark Flares

Amongst the Chunin Exams Madara found a particular lack of interest in the fellow competitors about him. A bored express had been painted unto him, nary identical to his natural stoicism. By boredom, he had taken to wandering the borders of the fencing surrounding while giving brief, uninterested, glances to the large groupings of potential chunin amongst him; Often wearing upon him an exasperated -unintentional- stare which could be easily mistaken for a challenging glare. None looked upon him however, so it was not seen. He stood well camouflaged within the masking corners of the eye which those whom were not trained did not glance. 

Originally, Madara despised the idea of attending the testing as the Hokage had suggested.This mainly for the tactic the man had used to gain his acceptance; the Sarutobi had chuckled low within his throat rasping with sound of a smoke changed breath about how Madara could not gain Jonin ranking without first becoming chuunin. Which had -naturally- made Madara internally cringe at the thought and accept with a murmur, on the bases of ego and Dominant status alone. Later the begone Uchiha had recognized the method as that of Hashirama’s coy nature, and had nearly slapped himself for his own arrogant, childish, vanity.

Now, he stood in a place he hadn’t wanted to be, in a self-made situation of having wanted to prove an ability he knew he already possessed. Among those barely capable of providing him a challenge; indeed he snorted at the concept, for the very circumstance did sound ridiculous to a man raised of war such as himself. Many of those around stood with showcased nerves and held their kunai poorly.

However, before he could take to sighing in complacency upon the situation he had tripped himself into, a burn upon his chest came to distract him. A burn which was certainly not brought upon by fire nor the sting of a jutsu; however, it was one Madara could easily recognize with a mere vague understanding; twas the burn of his soulmark having found his soulmate. It angered his wit a slight bit, as the ache had never arisen priour whilst he had lived an entire life of depravity, and the possible circumstance of finding his destined now was a ridiculous thought which the veteran had trouble accepting. He nye laughed, before his iries came to catch a light within the distance; wherein a blond -and obvious Submissive- stood amongst others his age, joyful and conversing, young and uncaring for the bright death of orange he wore upon himself, of a small make and an obviously malnourished frame. Perhaps within the bounds of foolish impulsivity Madara came to an easy comprehension: The boy his soul had chosen stood would be useful, and if nothing further, he could provide him with a limited amount of chakra to aid in the completion of his plans. 

Madara adjusted himself, reforming his slouched positioning and stretching his neck slightly to be rid of the tick which had formed along his spine. He glimpsed once more in the blond’s direction, taking notice of the teammates around him, the Haruno mark was upon the girl -though Madara was near certain in the past they had been wiped away priour to the village’s construction- the other was from his own clan and bore the Uchiha crest proudly, naturally, a Dominant as himself. However, in watching, Madara took notice that the girl was hardly speaking to  _ his _ chosen and had focused her attentions upon the Uchiha beside her, whom was avidly avoiding her gaze whilst he glared to the ground with a hallowed express. 

In the normal manner of strategist, the former patriarch made careful observance of the interactions between the comrades; becoming more aware of the pinkette’s distaste for the blonde standing beside her and the conversation he was easily providing, while the Uchiha among them occasionally made a one worded response unto. Madara was curious of this, as the immediate conclusion he could derive from simplistic observance was that the team cared not for one another. Now, within his own time it would be a regular occurrence, however, as the village became further entangled amongst itself the bonds of comradance had grown extensively -par Hashirama’s desires. Even more so after Tobirama’s development of the team system currently in use. 

His eye twitched narrowing in thought, a discrete, but visible, frown forming onto his features and ruining the stoicism which he had formerly possessed. He had several options open unto him, yet he knew several of them were foolish and could not be used in logical mind -the one involving kidnapping in example.- There was the simple option of a continual observance, at least until he could gather enough information on the blond, in order to use him to his full potential. Otherwise, there was the choice of merely approaching the boy and asking to speak with him; but alas, within the boundaries of the chunin exams it would do nothing but put himself into a suspicious appearance. He choose the former option, not wanting to be forced to deal with the underlings about him more then he would already be made too.

Sighing at the boredom impending, the ANBU woman spoke plainly of the rules for the first challenge and as she did so Madara found himself wondering at the state of Konoha’s shinobi if such a simplistic task had become a  _ challenge.  _ His shoulder was then gripped tightly, under the strength of a man who had to be above him in height and mass. Being as his body was merely fourteen, Madara waited for the statement which was to follow rather then killing the man as he would have were he in his adult form. 

“Boy, giv’me your scroll an’ this won’t get messy.” The snort escaped him involuntarily as he shot his gaze to the man grasping him. 

He gave his reply rather quickly, that is if he were to kill the stranger.“No.” Instead in his disinterest _ ,  _ he choose to make the entire affair short: Tensing the muscles of his shoulder so that the height of the grip changed slightly, he relaxed suddenly, and within the moment of confusion for the -in Madara’s candid opinion- unenlightened shinobi, gripped the pale fingers clutching him and rolled his body into the other mans to adjust the weight distribution, flipped him to the ground. It was only in a moment of afterthought that the Uchiha decided to break the man’s arm instead of simply leaving him on the dirt. 

As he walked towards the gates Madara did wonder -albeit briefly- as to why a  _ shinobi  _ would scream so loud after merely getting his arm broken. Though as it was not something he considered worth his attention, he focused himself on the observation mission he had given himself earlier, partially relieved that his minor distraction hadn’t cost him the location of his target within the forest. He had no sense of the boy’s chakra so he could not follow it, yet the vivid colours his soulmate wore serviced well enough to keep him within sight.

Madara knew little of soulbonds: He knew the opinion his kin held and had kept that opinion of mind himself as he grew. By Uchiha tradition they were precious and to be held in heightened regard. Naturally, by the simple manner of the time it was far from common to find one’s destined; thus such a thing was to be cherished, at least in accordance to his clan’s beliefs. Madara was also aware of the fact that only those born of particular clans received a soulmark in birth; those clans being the noble clans of Konohagakure. Meaning; the Uchiha, Senju, Sarutobi, and Hyuuga. Not all persons were blessed with a soulmate which is what had crafted the clans into nobility within Konoha -though the Hyuuga did consider the blessing a curse upon their heritage, they did value their title so they spoke little of it.- Madara could admit to himself that he knew little of the traditional blessing, only the meager common knowledge which even a civilian would be aware of for the most part. 

Agitated, he pult at the fabric covering his chest and momentarily glanced upon the large sunflower covering his right pectoral, his soulmark. It was ever so slightly inflamed, reddened by the presence of its other half and the colours were becoming more vivid, there was no other flower growing near it yet. Madara sighed unto himself, slightly irate that he should be disappointed by the knowledge, a second flower only blossomed after the first touch of a soulmate -according to his mother’s advocation.

He halted and hid behind the trunk of the tree he was upon as the members of his soulmate were stopped. After allowing his chakra to flare in order to get a proper understanding of the situation, Madara decided that going higher within the branches would be the best option. By aura, he knew a fight was brewing and he had the keen want to observe such an occurrence if only to gain a vague understanding of his Submissive’s prowess. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. A Knock

They were all grinning, laughing below, joyous and unrelenting. Victories had imparted a happiness upon each of them, though none of them had been made to heightened rank, they had all formed into a grouping and were smiling together; with the exception of Sasuke who could nye never be made to grin for any purpose. An odd viewsight to watch, as if staring down upon prancing colour beneath my vision unto me as they each made joly for reasonings I cannot comprehend; for although their loud sounds remain ever distracting unto one such as myself, I force my gaze to the plants I care for, some needing water, others a prune, whilst the one I currently tend to presently is in need of a darkened atmosphere rather then the blare of the sun she holds upon her leafs. I know under my own certainty, that she, as a plant, has never desired much for the blinding bright emboldened light of the sun.

As by my nature, my porch is clustered with my green tinted friendships, all long standing plants which can stand upon themselves without much needed oversight; as much for their prolonged lives as it is for mine own comfort. They no longer speak to me as they had when I had been a boy, their whispers are no longer present to bring a warming comfort onto my obscured living. Still, each of them, in presence, does continue to hold the same ease as they did when I had been a child, and on occasion I can hear a murmur from one of them escape, in the same soothing method they had always done. Below, as the colour jumps into my vision in their embrightened happiness and their humane friendships; at least I know under certainty, I have my green tinged friends, those who will not die under my continued care. Though Jin needs water, while Ti needs repotting, I grasp at my hole ridden gardening gloves, it is not as if I have a better schedule today written. Ti makes not a murmur as I move her, though I expect for nothing, as being uprooted cannot be a pleasant experience for any plant, one of her delicate flowers does gently graze at my cheek.

Sweat beads at my forehead, though I give no thought to wiping away the perspiration with my still gloved hand. I can feel the dirt fall slightly down my brow, the sensation does make me laugh a little. To the comprehension that I can be an idiot regardless of public eye or not, I grin at Ti, it had been her doing after all. A knock echos within my apartment, it is a sound I have heard many times, but only by the Hokage. This resonates within my home differently, and under precaution, I tare off my gloves and grab the stationary kunai I keep nearby for emergencies, as it is, I stand within my ragged clothing with no head protector, and no further weapons for defense. It does sting inside the back of my continuously muddled mind, that I should distrust my own hometown so fervently that any greeting must be made with a kunai positioned in my hand: as such is my life, I do suppose.

I peer out the door through the peak-hole in an attempt to comprehend who might be standing in wait. However, to look upon them, their stance is somewhat away from the doorway, with irritated crossed arms over their chest, a plain set expression not depicting malice; though their eyes are blank and under the smoldering fog of experience; as if a veteran having seen too much. His hair is navy blackened, likened to Sasuke's tones, his posture is stood rigid, and I have to assume he is a dominant. I would wager that he is around my own age, his oldened styled clothing appears designed under the particular prospect of hiding all muscle.

I do manage to open the door without wavering in my prospects, instantaneously his eyes snap to me in complete attention. The scrutiny causes me to instinctively twitch and I find the place over my heart burning in a sudden wave of heat. My hand, still stuck upon my doorknob tightens as I do not have a proper response for the person standing before me. My throat has closed to my incomprehension, the sensation of familiarity is intense. I know the man afore me, though I have never seen him before. His eyes flicker briefly to my chest, eyebrows slightly arisen, his arms still firmly crossed over his own as he stares, it is a foolish decision within all my shinobi training, but I find the words escaping regardless.

"Do I know you?" The smirk that graces his lips then is so likened to Sasuke's I could mistake them as twins.

But as he speaks, his voice is baritone in a manner that my teammate's isn't, cast with the gravel edge of age unsuited to his person. "In a manner, I must speak to you. It is quite complicated." It is hesitance that falters through the trust burning within my chest, even so, I do allow him entry to my home in despite of instinctual awareness integrated through my mind speaking clear; it is a horrid idea to do so. The understanding does not ring loud enough for me to take heed, instead, I wait with the opened door allowing the stranger, one whom is most definitely a shinobi into my home without so much as a protest. His steps are measured, his eyes flicker about in observance, scanning the area for a danger, though the downward tilt of his lips indicates a disappointment which I do not understand, as I close the door and bolt it, he faces me with the same expression. Not an introduction to be made, in complete stoicism, he simply asks, without a true inquiry in his tone "do you harbour a mark upon your chest? Or perhaps your wrist?" As he said it, my wrist began to heat, in a type of forgien burn which was previously inside my chest not moments ago. My fingers pull at the sleeve already covering the area, naturally; as it would any trained man, it draws his gaze, and he grasps my hand in a scarred-roughened grip. I manage to not flinch at the bruising grasp he has, but he flips over my wrist just as I force a glare his way; he's ignoring my gaze.

Staring resolutely at my arm, I look too, I do not expect a mark as he had asked as there had never been anything there in previous. Yet, there painted is the newly formed image of an intertwined sunflower and a blossoming purple crocus. It is only to be expected by proximity and by miscommunication, but I can feel the steerings of a brightened, rosened flush adorning my cheeks at the sight. Especially, as my words die within my throat in glimpsing at his chest dawning a very obvious sunflower over his heart and pectoral, whilst a crocus flower begins to form as I watch the details slowly manifest. Its a brief recollection, but in the back-quarters of my mind, a memory comes across my head like a swift breeze; coming from a lesson from many moons past that Iruka-sensei had to intergrain upon me. Even Sasuke had come to mention it during the interlude between rest and training. My memory does not service me well any time I wish it too, however, I do recall that the markings shown upon the both of us are somehow manifest with the noble clans of Konoha: Soulbonds, my mind suddenly screams at me in recollection.

Our eyes come to meet at that realization it seems, for he stares into my irises as if captivated, as I am entrapped within the depth of indigo blue his eyes cast me within. As if looking within the midnight drawn sky, there are spots of glittering stars within the darkness as iris freckles, they're a beautiful obscurity amongst the indigo of his eyes. I force my gaze downwards however, to the intergrained tattoo spiraling over his chest, yet another prickle sparks into my head, this more simplistic, something I have known for many a year for my work with my green friendships among the flowers. I stand as no floragrophist, but the language of blossoms has always sparkled into my interests; I know the meaning of the crocus bloom: Glee, happiness, joy of youth. Simplistic, though looking up to the man afore me, I cannot fathom it to be representative of him. The sunflower, whilst commonly misinterpreted by those attempting to woo a woman has two alternating meanings in dependance of the type; the tallest is a warning in commonality: 'arrogance or egotism' However, I do know well enough that a dwarven sunflower means 'adoration.' To look upon them as I do now, it is an impossible task to know if his sunflower's stock reaches lower or if it is indeed shortened: Unnecessarily my mind floats towards the latter option, in a hope I should not be thinking of.

Though, as his grip weakens upon my wrist and his tensed posture slips away, I at least understand why he would come to speak to me. His eyes close and I'm met with full, dark eyelashes and delicately pale eyelids, a sculpted brow sharply made as if to make a threatening scowl, I find myself letting lose a smile; I feel uncertain, as any person would within my situation, yet, comprehending, and oddly unthreatened. His fingers trace along the inner paths of my newly formed flowers, as if the touch of a most delicate butterfly's wing. He has yet to make proper explanation for his being here, though I feel as if it is unneeded with the sweetened touch to my inner wrist, with the bold flower's shown upon his chest plain to my innocent eyes.

Still, I speak in the manner that I always do: "So, you're from a clan I guess." It isn't really a question as I make it, yet I know he has no want to answer, as his lips seal in closure. Perhaps it is no proper response, but I smile to him for it; I don't particularly care if he is of noble clan blood, or if he has any family to speak of, for all my plain and arrogant wants, there is nothing else I have ever desired more then someone who will never find a reason to leave me. For all my limited understanding of the prospect, I do know that a soulmate; even if he is cruel, knavish, licentious, and amoral is all that I have wished for: As he will have no want to leave me, not truly, as any other might. He appears uncertain for his answer, so I speak once more in his place. "I don't care if you do, I'm Uzumaki Naruto by the way!" I grin as best I might, as he blinks at me, staring in a manner I do not recognize.

"Madara." He finally says, no clan name attached as I'd expected. It does somewhat lighten my shoulders to know that I must not bare the burden of being a shameful secret unto his family. A very slight smile, crossing into a smirk ghosts over his face. "You understand our circumstance then?" He tilts his head in question, though I cannot fully understand what he is truly asking, I have a vague comprehension.

"I think so?" He shakes his head, and lets my arm free, a simper on his lips now as he slowly shakes his head in an amusement I've seen several times from teachers who do not detest my existence. Which is a slight comfort as ny everyone in the village has an issue with my presence in some way, whether that be caused by my own childhood bid for attention, or their belief of my demonic spirit is differing from person-to-person.

"You realize we are bound, as one." It is a strange fitted comprehension, no questioning unto the statement, other then the blinding acceptance my emotions project unto me at the words as he states them as fact. My instinct overrides my logic to disregard the spoken logic, and I find my head nodding takes to glimpsing out the window, his back facing me now, clearly he is focused on something I cannot comprehend, for his throat tenses in irritation; I wonder at his reaction, so perhaps as careful as I might, I sneak a glance past his figure out to my porch's limited view of the busy streets. His eyes are focuses as mine had been, upon the jumping and joyful colour laughing on the dirt roads, whispering together and making jolly. Though I do attempt to restrain myself, for the jealousy rising in my gut at the sight, something I cannot catch must show plain, for the boy beside me; narrows his already harshened gaze further for a fractional moment then turns to me in seeming resolution. His ireful eyes take heed of my apartment with sharpened and obviously intentioned judgement, "improper." Is all he states, and before I can make a proper retaliation he smirks to me, as if already comprehensive of my unspoken argument.

"I live near." His gaze flickers to Jin, Ti, Roe, and Menma, my precious, awaiting plants sitting out at the porch, "there would be room for them on the balcony." His nose flicks in what I can only presume to be distaste for his surroundings, though the loud sound of my neighbors banging at the walk cannot be a good reassurance of quality. I have been robbed many a times from the small cramped apartment I sit within each day, but it has never serviced to protect me in full from the rare shinobi sent to assassinate me. My only safety therein is the Hokage's proclamation, and my own very limited skill to fight them away. However, to stare at the man before me, I can at least wager a guess that he should have a home within the upper district of the village, if not the middle, that is considering the amount of scars adorning his collarbone and some of his chest, I have to assume he knows how to stand his ground against a few improperly trained shinobi. I can care for myself, but my skill at being observant in unexpected situations is limited to a saddened degree, I do think that Madara will have a better stance under such a circumstance.

Even though I know what he asks, my laughter comes out regardless. "Are you asking me to move in with you? That's pretty future-minded you know." I do manage a grin at him for the strange way in which he had phrased his question, that was indeed, not an ask. I do not like being told what to do as I'm well certain this man afore me can understand at least the base off, for he gives me a scowl, though makes no true protest to my statement, other then the rationally state the obvious both of us already know of.

"A safer living for both myself and for you. It would be ridiculous, scrupulous, in fact, for you to remain in such a place. To be stubborn over such a logical ideal would be foolish." I wish to slap him over his condescending tilted cheek, but my arms cross over my own chest and I can still feel the slight burning from my still forming soulmark at his statement. I have no want to agree, my apartment, though agen, molded, and cracked with unrepaired beams, is a place which I have lived all my life, to leave would be a challenge, for despite the saddening fact that it is; I do have a slight attachment to the place by way of sentimentality. Though, the rationality behind his words grits at my instincts, and I find myself sweeping about the rooms to pack everything essential.

"I'm not leaving my plants." It is a saddened attempt to regain some ground with the man, but he makes little comment, save to roll his eyes, and comes to aid me in my cleaning. He however, appeared to be less in the know over such a simple prospect, his nose upturned in distaste continuously, and though it was rather obvious for one such as myself, he sorted the lights with the darks instead of separating them for the wash later. I have to correct him as he does so, though he is gentle with the minimal weapons I have, and they are made safely and well stored into differing pouches I have just in case I need to make a hasty exit.

I notice his eyes resting on me in scrutiny as I work on organizing my minimal clothes once more. He is in my cupboards with my stock of ramen, baked beans, and canned meat, there is hardly anything else affordable to an orphan, especially one such as myself commonly refused from the shops. My cheeks are blaring from the attention in truth, though I know his eyes are upon my figure to determine my health, I do know I am slim in comparison to other submissives mine own age, especially to a dominant such as Shikamaru. He probably finds me uncouthly disproportionate, I have never felt the sensation beneath my chest before as it has never before had a reason to arise, alas, the stricken sensation of being unworthy or unwanted glimmers beneath my breast as an unnecessary obstruction. It is a ridiculous emotion I have no need for.

He sweeps three of my packed necessities over his shoulders, and one over his arm, while I take to pick up the plants eagerly awaiting their turns. That is when I feel an emotion that I am certain is not my own; likened to amusement, though resolution within contentment. Similar to my own feelings, yet entirely differing in intensity. I turn to glimpse at Madara standing firm behind me, though he is not firm, he is breathing heavily and he blinks several times over in my direction. He had harboured the same type of experience: I had thought it just a myth of soul-bonds, to feel each other's emotions. Yet in eying each other as we do, it is obvious that such an anomaly had just occurred.

Madara is the first to take action, and merely jesters his eyes towards the plants I hold, asking through a stoic tone if I have gathered everything.


	3. Chapter 3

We were walking ourselves by the quite obvious standing flower shop in display of their stock. Irony does not fail to escape my rather oblivious mind with such a prominence, Madara beside takes no obvious interest. His eyes are fixated ahead, though he does not appear to be taking particular notice of anything even ahead of us, a glaze over his sparkled irises as he walks, while his step remains predicted -predetermined- by that which he knows already. Though he does not seem to be content by whatever truth he sees behind his mind, I take to snapping his focus once more to the presence, as best I might. "I've never moved before ya know dattebayo. Its kinda exciting!" I force the grin resting upon me as I stare up to him in wait, he does look to me however, with a gentle express that does not suit his visage in any way, as if his eyes had shattered into disrepair, it is only momentary in my view before they return to as they were, and he too begins to wear a forced grin; certainly not as practiced as my own, but well understood by one who has used them often enough to comprehend the need.

My sandals crunch harshly against the pebbles below me, though I suppose that to be expected as my walking pertains a slight skip that had not been upon me in previous. An elation I cannot quite make out explanation for, yet resonates as a sensation within my chest and a pleasant burn within my wrist, he who walks beside is calm in opposition to me; with a steady step and a stoic, resolute expression which I could never fathom to match. It is as his eyes are blanketed by memories I do not know, and would not intrude upon, that his stare turns to me. I look to him in turn, a slow type of acknowledgement of each other; and in truth I'm more peering up at him then taking a full profile of him in comparison. He however, is fully observing me with both eyes, I wonder if perhaps we should stop: his gaze is full and complete, as if evaluating every curvature of my face, though even so, the broken expression remains upon him with softened eyes and a sweetened smile before his midnight gaze returns to the road ahead of us.

It is a loaded question which rests upon me, but I make my tongue speak it without fear, there is no need for apprehension in truth. "Have you?" I phrase it as simplistic as I might, as uncaring as I might so he does not think me too intrusive. I know little of people in truth, yet, I can comprehend them to an extent by merely watching their routes and conversations from my windows, how they interact with each other is in delicacy, with those they know not well. I can only hope that my view is at least partially correct in that respect.

He says nothing, least until we reach the gates of an oldened house; it is not extensive or richened, it is traditionalized as if made for an elder of the village, there standing by it even sits a subtle well maintained sand garden. Dancing around it are simple bonsai trees, brushles of orange tinge, while the stone-block pathway is painted with the coloured leafs. The gate stands as a parody of itself, likely made and added later, as the house itself is obviously from the time of the second hokage, if not older in nature. I blink at it, I do not know what my expectations had been in truth, therein I had not expected it to appear as a clan home, large enough to be presented for the main family with wooden paneling on the outside and a slanted roofing of blackened near cylindrical tiles. "I did not have a home, I should say, a house, until much later in my life. I had lived in huts and sheds which were carelessly built by my family as we wondered." I stare at him then, probably inappropriately, crassly, but the wording, though entirely different in most respects, does feel familiar, I can understand how that might feel at least. It doesn't sound like the stability most people here are comfortable with.

It is with all the nerves flaring within me that I grasp onto the sleeve of his arm beside me, it gains his attention and I get a confused, somewhat shocked glace for the action. I swallow all my mounting trepidation, for I am uncertain of how to speak as it seems, but I do force my throat to speak as clear as I might. "Well, you did have your family, and that had to be comforting at least." There is nothing between us as the silence remains, but he twitches, he breathes heavily and he smiles an embittered simper which I cannot determine is good or bad in origin.

It is however, with a tinge of shock that I recognize the feeling amounting in my gut, not as my own, but as his; within there is melancholy, resentment, sadness, guilt. All commulated into an amass of emotions that takes moments to understand, but I stare at him, he must have known I had experienced all that he had. But he makes no indication, merely takes a deepened sigh, and grabs -gently this time,- at my wrist before leading me into the home before us. As it stands, I think it is a topic I best avoid, at least for now.

The internal of the house is as I expected, olden, with paper flooring and paneling, there are even circular doorways in some areas that I can see through the still open doors. There is artistry along the walls, beautiful murals which I cannot claim to have ever seen in previous, even in the Hokage's painted halls. Decorations of war scenes of brutality, and great shows of goddesses granting gifts to pained mortals, I can even catch a glimpse of one wall painted with differing clan symbols far from the entrance. I look to Madara, and naturally he appears accustomed, as to be expected, though his eyes are roaming about as if in wonderence.

It is only after having taken off his shoes and leaving them upon the shelf -as I would not have done if it weren't rude.- That he walks to the far wall and opens the doorway to reveal a gorgeous garden I cannot imagine to have existed anywhere but a clan home; in some regard my head speaks to me to be suspicious, much as Ti whispers her mutterence of caution in my ear as I walk forwards. A grin is already curving my cheeks in adoration for the sight of the freshened sunlight, the fresh -small- stream and the plenty fertilized soil displayed before my eyes, the light glints against the croppings of sand, but under the clear cast sky the entire garden is a beauty unto my gaze. It is as if everything I had ever desired for a garden of mine own, and I want it known, so I turn to Madara beside; who is observing me as I stare outside, and I place the most delicate and presumptive kiss I can onto his cheek.

I don't expect the quickened pink flush that alights his face at the action. He covers it well, for the cough he lets into his fist and the sudden sharp flicker of his gaze to the outdoors. "This will have to do for your plants, I am afraid there is little other space for your plants save your rooms, and I doubt they have substantial sunlight during the day." It is the most I have heard him speak at once, and all throughout the sentence his voice somehow manages to remain unburdened by emotion, firmly and resolutely monotone; indeed, I am near certain there is a certain Uchiha within my team absolutely seething with an unexplained jealousy for the ability Madara just so ardently displayed.

I follow as he leads me to the kitchen, "I um… I really can't cook, well, not well." He stares at me for a moment, though I don't know what he expected to find, and I can't feel anything culminating from him as his emotions do not burn strong enough to gleen an understanding.

"Neither can I, then I suppose we will have to learn." He says little else upon the subject, though by the tight clasp he has upon his lips I have the knowledge that he wishes too. Perhaps it is something residing as sexist in some manner, and that is why he holds his quiet, or perhaps he stands embarrassed, to read his expression is difficult by merely staring upon him. He crosses into a bedroom after crossing to very small staircases I wonder at the meaning of. He opens the sliding door but does not enter, merely gestures inside with a swept arm of grace, I peer inside to see a simplistic room. The same size as my apartment, perhaps without the kitchen area, it is still large. "This will be yours, at least for now." Had I not listened to Iruka's lecture in the academy on the seduction arts for Submissives I would be entirely ashamed and my face would be a blazen red at the implication. He lightly puts the bags over his shoulders at the doors, and I thank him with a gratitude so quiet I donut he could hear it properly.

"There is little else to show you, there is an indoor bath just off your room to the right most doorway." He grunts to himself as he stretches his neck, the continues. "There is a training ground at the door past the garden." I force my smile to him, I know I might not be the most observant of people, but it is obvious at least to me that Madara is unaccustomed to the concept of a submissive as an active shinobi, though the resolution and acceptance he is displaying is comforting in its attempt. He deserves some recognition for that at least I imagine, I cannot think that such intergained ideals would be easy to leave behind. In honesty it is likely somewhat falsified, but I do manage to cast a grin and grip at his wrist: I look towards the kitchen, I know hardly anything revolving around cooking, yet, I do know basic aspects, and the old-man did teach me some necessary techniques.

It weren't as if it was just my life that was disrupted by my sudden appearance -or in my case, his appearance. "How about I try to whip something up for dinner?" He looks befuddled for a moment, then nods calmly as he might.

"If you wish, I will be on the training ground." Is all he responds with, not that I expected intricacy. I let go of his sleeve, and he turns to the doors previously, as I make way to the kitchen, nerves rattling in my head. From Madara's direction Ti near shouts to me, in a mocking warning, I do wonder how the man afore me cannot hear it, but he doesn't so much as flinch to her harsh voice.

"Don't expect a feast!" I shout back at him in case he can somehow not hear Ti's loud shout, though I suppose she has never enjoyed other people taking notice of her. I hear him grunt in response, before the door slides closed with a snapping click. I'm certain he has better stock then I, though that still does nothing to improve my ability to cook. I do still wish to make him something, if nothing more then as a thanks; for what exactly I do not know. I am certain however, that my life is now merged with his and we are both aware of that.

* * *

It is much later within the evening, as the sun peeks herself out from the ridges in casting a dusk that is beautiful to watch: both of us are sat facing in the direction at the garden hallway outside. His eyes are closed and the delicate colours play across his gently tanned skin, I see slight wrinkles where there should be none, shining beneath the fading light, around his eyes mainly, though some are at the corners of his lips. I have no particular expertise, but to me it looks as if Madara had both been through a great strain in his life, extended and perpetuated, yet, by the lines around his mouth, it also appears that he had also found time to smile among the trials.

Maybe it stands as my own bias, but from the carefully hidden muscles beneath his clothes to the shape of his eyes, down to the tone of his skin, Madara really is a pretty man. I say that as someone who has never known the general consensus on the matter, though I do presume Sakura would agree at least in outer beauty; as he is enough like Sasuke in direct appearance that they could be mistaken for each other upon first glance. The breeze ruffles gently through his hair sweeping it to catch on his nose, he lets lose a soft smile, and I have to force my fingers not to remove the hair now stuck there. Instead, as I typically manage, I get my mouth to speak in my action's stead. "So, are you competing in the exams?" I fold my legs underneath me, its far more comforting as I hear Jin lightly giggle at my nerves nearby. His indigo irises flicker to me.

"Yes, though the Hokage has written a paper to admit me into the chunin rank already, as it stands I am acting under formality." A sigh comes from him then, though it looks as if a mere lightening of his chest. The scowl he harbours is more a jeer of irritation then anything malicious.

Jin shouts into my ear zir idea: "Ugh!" I collapse into the wood below me in a fit of flailing limbs and a fake annoyance. "Well some people just get it easy don't they?!" I'm smiling as I do it. I follow zirs advice the most anyway, but Jin is correct, being immature is better then being serious and resolute like Ti. I watch as his eyes drift to the water nearby, a coy smile following the glance.

"Perhaps they do." He leans forward from his incline and grabs a flattened rock on the ground, tossing it across the stream without an effort. Making a smile to himself as he does so; perhaps it is unconscious motion, astray from any resonant thought, but he begins to caress his fingers along his chest as if in ponderance. The sight, though nothing of importance unto myself or even him, brings me to my feet and making my excuses to head off to bed, words I have never needed to say before, and likely excuses I did not really need make. I feel the pink at my cheeks as he stares at me with eyebrows slightly raised, before a smirk graces him and he stands too.

"A good night Naruto-kun."

* * *

I hold my jacket in my hands, I have no particular reasoning. I already put on my fishnet underneath and my pants are on as they should be, but I'm messaging the fabric through my fingers and staring down at the brightened colour. Near in view, in plain clarity is my soulmark as if an extensively intricate inkwork tattoo, bursting with emboldened colours of yellow, purple, and green, all so bright against my near copper skin tone. Just as my hair stands plain in extroversion, I grab the small fit glove Madara had been kind enough to leave upon the table top for me priour to his departure. It was leather, and a little snug, but it fit well enough to hide the plain marking, I find myself curious for what Madara might be wearing in juxtaposition to myself -his is far more plain then my own. From within the garden I can hear Jin laughing at me in all zir common immaturity, while Ti reminds me to get going before I am late to meet team seven. I honestly don't even know why I am delaying.

The sweeping motion of putting on the jacket is comforting and familiar, unlike much around me now. I suppose that was my grand wonderance, the brash explicit changes unto my life within the length of an afternoon. Energy gathering in my legs, I burst out the door, though I have brain enough to lock it before running off to the examination building, though the feeling of sand granules in my sandals is an odd source of security unto my mind: the obscure sensation brings a stretching grin onto my face rather then annoyance as one would commonly expect. To imagine myself within such a placement, living within a house with a man that fate so claims as my soulmate, to think of it as a prospect; Uzumaki Naruto, in happiness, away from the burden of the villagers' scornful considerations. It is as if a fantasy I conceptualized as a wandering child in the streets. I wonder what a young boy such as that would think of me now; no doubt, a person worth stealing riches away from, strange perhaps that such a thought should make me laugh and grin the most.

I am presently grinning for no reason in awaiting my fight; as I am now beginning to question what destiny might have in store for me. There are several of my old classmates about, many of them appearing confident and ready, some nervous and twitching ever so slightly. I know my capacity, I know that I can beat whoever they pair me with, I do not have a strategic mind, or great combat skills; but I do have a high tolerance for pain like no one else around, that is my biggest asset outside of my chakra. Still, there is one person I both have the instinctual urge to fight, and who my mind screams at me to stay away; and that's the sand-man who beat up Lee with no remorse or sympathy, he's an ample target, yet he has an aura of blood about him, just as the one I feel burning inside my chakra on occasion: Such a bloodlust frightens all my instincts for mercy into something more primal. While it insults all my pride to admit, I do think Sasuke would be a better opponent for that man, he can strategize on the spot as a Jounin while also retaining a calm demeanour as I cannot.

A stinging pain resonates in my wrist, and my eyes move to the arena where Madara is facing off one of the Sound shinobi I'd seen yesterday during the preliminaries. I do regret not having watched his fight now that I know who he is, he made it to the third exam so he has to have reasonable skill as a shinobi; not to mention the fact that apparently the old man wishes to upgrade him as chunin regardless. I find myself cheering, there's no plausible way for him to lose; for a moment, just a glimmer of indigo in my direction, I see his eyes glance to me and a smirk alight his features, before the entire confident expression is gone as the breeze.

A fight is not the word I'd use to describe what happens. They both glare at each other, Madara in complete stoicism and resolution, while the other man twitches. Then my soulmate raises a single finger and points -rather bored it seems- to a wall. When the man turns to look, he collapses, and Madara cranes his neck before walking out. I cannot say I know what happened, but I would guess at a genjutsu of sorts; as I've never been skilled with the technique myself, I do not know for certain. I know little of the man as is, so I can only make the assumption that he practises illusions extensively.

My own fight nears, and I feel my arm twitch, in preparation or in nerves is an inner debate I have no time to think upon.


End file.
